Four tornadoes, wind gusts up to 140 miles an hour and enough rain in 15 minutes to make Stockton and Truman merge into one big lake. I have been spending time answering phone calls tonight, and if I believed everything people have heard from so and so, I would be grabbing my faimly and heading for the Rocky Mountains. Taking outage calls at a utility is a lot like playing that telephone game we used to do in youth group, without the deteration into discussion of someone's underwear.
One thing you can believe is that people are without power. We wish they knew we believed them the first time. By the third or fourth time they call, it just seems like they are more lonely than anything.
I would have more sympathy for them but it is about 83 degrees outside, reruns are on television and it is still light out. They should be thankful we are pushing them to enjoy the outdoors except, you know, for those people who are now a part of Truckton Lake.